Early Sexual History

I can remember my first day of grade school after I turned five years of age. My older sister, Sherry, was already in school, and I was excited about going myself. We got up that first day of school morning, and my mother helped us dress and fed us. Then we walked around to the school. She took Sherry to class first, and quickly headed around to my classroom with me. She talked to the teacher for a while, and I could hear the teacher tell her I was in good hands. They walked me over to one of the small tables where other children were seated, and sat me down. I was good right up until I realized my mother was leaving me there. When I realized that, I started crying like a baby, loud and I couldn’t stop. The teacher had to convince my mother to just leave and everything would be alright. That’s my memory of the start of school, and I was only there for half a day.

Elementary school for me was uneventful for the most part. After I got the hang of things and made friends and all that, it was fun. They would serve us box lunches at elementary school when I started going for the full day. When I was about seven or eight years of age, I would help clean the cafeteria after lunch by taking some of the garbage bags of trash from the box lunches to the janitor’s room in the school. It was an industrial-looking room behind a steel door. It had an incinerator in it that the janitor used to burn the cardboard boxes. The janitor was an older white guy, and he had a couple of younger adult black guys working under him. There were a lot of students in the school, and they left a lot of good food in the box lunches that they threw away. When I would take the bags of garbage to the janitor’s room, the janitor and his crew would go through the bags, and pick out the good stuff that the children had thrown away before they burned the bags of trash. They would have what seemed like hundreds of packages of peanuts, raisins, cookies, cartons of milk, and whatever was good and hadn’t been opened. I guess they would take that stuff home. When I would go into the janitor’s room sometimes they would show me pornographic pictures in magazines that they had in the room around the tables where they sat. They would show me the pictures, and laugh at the faces I was making as I was looking. They would say, “look at this, look at this,” and then they would show me these pictures of women with big labia and big clits. They would be laughing so hard that the older white guy would nervously tell them to put the magazines away and let me be on my way. I never said anything to anybody about it, but I’m 58 years of age today, and I still have a fetish for large labia, big clits, and meaty pussy. That’s not to say that all the women I have history with have had large labia. Relationships develop before you know what’s in a woman’s pants or under her dress, and then you have whatever is there when you get to that point, but I’d prefer to have a mouthful of pussy beef.